


Would You? Would You?

by EveningStarcatcher



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920's, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), First Kiss, First Time, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningStarcatcher/pseuds/EveningStarcatcher
Summary: 1923 - Aziraphale and Crowley run into each other at a party. More specifically on the roof, avoiding the party. But things seem different this time. Charged. Electric. Something ineffable is coming...Title from the song "Would You" from the musical Singin' in the Rain
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	Would You? Would You?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afhyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afhyer/gifts), [WhiteleyFoster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteleyFoster/gifts).



> Inspired by [afhyer's entry](https://afhyer.tumblr.com/post/626732022191243264) for the Whiteley Foster [Jazz Baby DTIYS](https://whiteleyfoster.tumblr.com/post/625728421935415296/ah-a-jazz-baby-dtiys-with-prizes-rules)
> 
> Many thanks to [SylviaW1991](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaW1991) for the beta read!!!

_1923_

The air was cool and comfortable, just enough of a breeze drifting by to send hair tickling across a forehead and spread goosebumps across a forearm. The moon was full and bright, ringed in silver, sending deep shadows across the city. Stars sparkled and winked in the grey-blue sky, blinking out as clouds rolled by, then bursting forth in glory once more.

Crowley sat on the roof, arms stretched out behind him, head thrown back, enjoying the fresh air and space after the cramped heat of the party inside. His fingers drifted across rough brick as golden eyes lingered on the constellations above. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, enjoying the peace as the night cleared his head, fuzzy alcohol-tinged edges soft, but solid. 

“Crowley?” called a familiar voice, warm and posh and melodic.

His heart stuttered at the sound. “Here, angel.”

“What are you doing out here?” A halo of angelic curls popped into view from the nearby window.

“S’quieter.” Crowley shrugged and stood carefully, offering a hand to Aziraphale. “Join me?”

“I think I will,” Aziraphale smiled softly, placing a hand into Crowley’s and climbing, rather ungracefully, out the window.

It was an awkward situation, helping Aziraphale steady himself, hands clasped, a shiver making its way down Crowley’s spine at the contact, the closeness. Aziraphale seemed to lean into the touch, moving closer to Crowley than was strictly necessary.

Crowley placed a hand on the small of Aziraphale’s back, letting him move ahead, fingertips dragging together as their hands slid apart. Lingering.

Crowley smiled as he watched the angel make his way across the rooftop, arms spread out to the sides as if he were a tightrope walker, wobbling ever so slightly as he moved. He braced his hands on the chimney, turned, and lowered himself, reclining against the brick.

His jacket was gone, as was his waistcoat, but he was the same buttoned-up angel as always. Wrapped in cloth and buttons and braces and tartan bowtie. Perfectly lovely. Blue eyes glittered as they swept upwards, a gentle smile spread over his pink lips. 

“Comfy?” Crowley asked, taking his seat facing Aziraphale, one long leg drawn up to his chest, the other dangling against the slanted roof.

“Mm,” Aziraphale nodded, letting his head fall back against the chimney. He sighed happily, broad chest rising and falling.

“Smoke?” Crowley offered a cigarette, lit with a snap of his fingers and a whiff of sulphur.

“No thank you,” Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open, watching as Crowley lifted the cigarette and breathed in. Those eyes tracked every movement of Crowley’s lips and Crowley’s cheeks warmed at the attention.

He breathed out, grey mist curling and dissipating into the night. He did his best to send his nerves away with it. To unknot his stomach and slow the pounding in his chest.

There was something different about tonight. Something different about Aziraphale - the way he held himself with confidence, the way his eyes moved slowly, carefully over Crowley, as if he were memorizing every line and bend.

“You look wonderful.” Aziraphale’s voice was soft, but not shy, his eyes held a gentle fierceness. No trace of fear or hesitation. “Stunning.”

Crowley’s words died on his tongue. That quick tongue, always ready for a witty remark or snarky joke, failed him, abandoned him, left him sputtering. “Ngk.” He grumbled as he lifted the cigarette to his lips once more.

He had wondered if he’d run into Aziraphale tonight - it seemed like the place both head offices would send them. Just sinful enough to be an easy target, but nothing the angel couldn’t turn to the straight and narrow. But where he was supposed to be working, Crowley had been searching the crowd for a certain halo of pale curls. He had even dressed for the occasion and was quite proud of his ensemble: strappy heels and a sleek, sleeveless dress dripping with beads that shimmered and whispered with every movement, a matching headband, complete with white and black feathers, curled around his short auburn hair, bangles jingled on his wrist, and a single gold band accentuated the corded muscles of his arm. He had thought he looked incredible, but now he only felt nervous.

Aziraphale’s eyes caught every glimmer and rustle and gleam of him, eyes taking it all in, chest rising and falling in steady breaths. His hands fidgeted, seemed unsure what to do, so he first reached up and loosened his bowtie. Then he undid the button of his collar. Then he rolled his sleeves up. Each movement was slow, meticulous, as fabric was moved aside. His sleeves were drawn up to his elbows, each roll revealing creamy skin that made Crowley’s heart race.

The air was charged with something inevitable. Something ineffable. It flashed in Aziraphale’s eyes as they lingered on Crowley’s lips and sat upon his shoulders, strong and set and waiting.

Waiting. But for what?

“Where are your shoes?” 

“Hmm?”

“Your shoes, where are they?” Aziraphale gestured to Crowley’s bare feet.

“Oh, somewhere inside. Not easy to sneak away when your shoes are clicking all over the floor.” Crowley raised a foot and wiggled his toes. Aziraphale smiled, chuckled.

A beautiful, painful want bloomed in Crowley’s chest.

“What did you think of the party, then?” Aziraphale let his head fall back against the brick once more, rolling to the side to gaze at the moon.

He was beautiful. His profile glowed softly in the silvery light, accentuating the gentle upturn of his nose, the long, fluttering eyelashes, the fullness of his lips.

“Not bad, actually,” Crowley smirked. “I gossiped with the girls and may have planted the seeds for some great pranks that will really get under the skin of those rich bastards.”

“Ah. And I suppose it would come as a complete surprise to you that those ‘rich bastards,’ as you call them, were saying the most terrible and inappropriate things about those girls.” Aziraphale raised one eyebrow and glanced over at Crowley without moving his head, eyelashes glowing silver in the moonlight, tongue peeking out to wet his lips. “Well, less about the girls themselves, and more what they’d like to _do_ to them.”

The emphasis sent shivers down Crowley’s spine. What had the angel heard? Had he ever had those thoughts? If he had, he certainly hadn’t voiced them. Yet there he was, focused once again on Crowley as if he were hungry for something delectable. Crowley knew that look, but it was always directed at a crêpe or a particularly flaky pastry, never at anything else. Never at him.

“Yeah, complete surprise. Didn’t know anything about that.” Crowley’s arms were gesturing without his permission, flailing to the sides and sending his cigarette tumbling to the sidewalk below. “Shit,” he mumbled, miracling a new one into his hand

“You know, I think I’ve changed my mind.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and held one as well. “Light?”

Crowley stretched out a hand, but Aziraphale held his cigarette just out of reach. Crowley moved closer, his foot catching Aziraphale’s leg, bunching the hem of his trousers up to his shin. Crowley anticipated a tut or a scolding, but the angel seemed to light up from the touch, leaning in, eyes wide and wanting, chest rising and falling just a little bit faster.

Crowey shifted closer still, his foot continuing to slide along Aziraphale’s leg, pulling the fabric even higher. He shivered at the sensation of soft hair against his skin. He snapped his fingers alight and leaned in. The flame danced in Aziraphale’s eyes.

Suddenly there was a hand around Crowley’s wrist. It was gentle, but firm. A question. Desire. Crowley’s pupils blew wide as his eyes met the angel’s.

“Together.” Aziraphale whispered, raising the cigarette to his lips.

Crowley did the same and they leaned in, flame flickering between them as their cigarettes caught. They each took a drag, holding it, suspending the moment, living in the anticipation of what would happen next. 

It was terrifying and electrifying. The crossroads of fear and hope. Everything converging into this moment of uncertainty, the last moment of the unknown. 

They breathed out in unison, tilting their heads back so as not to blow the smoke in each other’s faces. Their exhalations mingled, swirling together before disappearing.

Azirphale’s hand was still wrapped around Crowley’s wrist. He was sure the angel could feel the rapid rhythm of his pulse there, and when he let his eyes fall back to the soft features of Aziraphale’s face, he could see a faint tinge of pink in his cheeks and a flash of urgency in his eyes.

“Crowley,” he whispered, his free hand running featherlight touches up Crowley’s arm, cigarette abandoned.

Crowley shivered.

“Angel,” he whispered back as a warm hand cradled his cheek. “Are you sober?”

“Yes, my dear.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to Crowley’s forehead, pulling a sigh from the demon’s chest. “Very much so.”

Another kiss, this time to his cheek. Then his nose.

The world was spinning. The quiet was deafening. Everything was speeding, yet moving far too slow. 

Oh, if only this moment could last forever.

But Crowley was feeling impatient. He’d already waited thousands of years.

His free hand tossed his cigarette aside and wrapped around the back of Aziraphale’s neck, guiding, pulling him in, granting permission, asking the same question he’d seen in the angel’s eyes, now closed in anticipation, in surrender.

Their lips met, just a gentle press. It was everything. Every dream fulfilled, every hope granted, every moment of doubt or grief or worry rewarded in abundance.

It was overwhelming.

They parted for a breath, but only for a moment, before drawing together again. What started as slow, soft kisses became deep and passionate, pulling out sighs and moans that were enthusiastically swallowed by the other. Arms wrapped around each other, hands caressing arms and waists, fingers tangling in hair, in fabric, legs entwined.

Crowley dipped his head into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, letting his tongue explore, his teeth nip, his lips kiss and suck. Aziraphale held him tight, breathing out every sound of delight Crowley had ever heard him moan over crêpes and oysters and cake.

It was intoxicating. Crowley needed more.

He clawed at Aziraphale’s shirt, shoved at the braces, needing more skin. Needing more of his angel.

Aziraphale helped, shrugging off the braces. He shifted, trying to pull Crowley into his lap, but the move was unanticipated and they lost their balance, nearly tumbling off the roof. Crowley’s arms shot out, holding Aziraphale between them, hands gripping the chimney crown to steady them.

They stared at each other for a few moments, catching their breath, then Aziraphale began to giggle. It was bright as the sun and more joyful than anything Crowley had ever heard. He couldn’t help but join in. He leaned his head against Aziraphale’s chest and felt the laughter even as he heard it. Rumbling and sweet. Aziraphale nuzzled into Crowley’s hair.

“Perhaps we should move this inside.” Aziraphale’s voice was hesitant now, slow and unsure.

“Yes, please,” Crowley rushed, pulling his angel into a rather sloppy kiss.

_His angel._

Could it be?

“Please? Isn’t that rather polite for a demon?” Aziraphale’s lips pressed together in a poorly hidden grin, his eyes flashing with mischief. “Nice, even.”

“M’not nice.” Crowley scowled.

Aziraphale beamed. “You most certainly are. Very nice kisser. Very, _very_ nice…” His voice trailed off as he captured Crowley’s lips once again. A hand slipped around his slim waist, thumb running across the fabric just above Crowley’s hip.

“You’re a bastard,” Crowley huffed when they separated.

“Oh, perhaps, but I still think we should move this inside before we end up falling prey to gravity.” He chuckled and tried to move away from Crowley, but was held tight.

“Wait!”

“What is it?” 

Crowley surged forward, his tongue slipping into Aziraphale’s mouth as the angel gasped in surprise. That gasp became a moan as Crowley worked his serpentine magic, teasing and tantalizing.

“Darling!” Aziraphale breathed, running a hand up Crowley’s thigh, teasing with the hem of his dress.

A snap and the fresh air was gone. The roughness of the brick was replaced by soft blankets. There was a soft _thunk_ as Aziraphale’s shoes landed on the floor by the foot of the bed. 

Crowley pushed Aziraphale back against the pillows and straddled him, kissing down his chest as he undid each button. 

Aziraphale’s hands scrambled at Crowley’s dress, bunching it in his fists and pulling up as far as he could. A hand on Crowley’s chest guided him up and Aziraphale shrugged his shirt off, tossing it to the floor, followed by Crowley’s dress.

Aziraphale’s hands were warm against Crowley’s bare chest, his shoulders, his back. Crowley left marks on Aziraphale’s neck, passionate and possessive.

The angel’s hips rolled and they both groaned.

Crowley pushed Aziraphale back down and dove for the fastenings of his trousers. He slipped them off, with a little help from the angel himself, revealing beautifully thick thighs. 

Then they froze, almost naked and panting. They stared at each other, taking in the sight like air, like water, like something precious and necessary for life. 

Aziraphale’s fingertips ghosted across the lace of Crowley’s panties. Red, of course.

“Lovely,” he breathed.

“Angel. Aziraphale.” Crowley’s breaths were becoming ragged. Something clenched in his chest, demanding attention, demanding to be set free, to be given away instead of locked up.

“What is it, darling?” Aziraphale’s features were lined with concern, his hand shifting to hold Crowley’s hip.

“You’re gorgeous. I’ve always thought so. Perfect, beautiful angel.” His hands held Aziraphale’s face, thumbs running along the soft apples of his cheeks. 

“You’re the gorgeous one.” Aziraphale pulled Crowley closer, further onto his lap.

Their hips ground together again as they moved.

“Oh, angel. _Oh_!” Crowley sighed, head thrown back at the sudden sparks.

“ _Ah_ ,” Aziraphale’s breath hitched. “I think we’re still a bit overdressed.”

“Just a bit.” Crowley huffed out a laugh as he pushed himself back. “I can take care of that.” 

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Aziraphale’s (tartan) shorts, but a hand stopped him from going any further.

“You first. Please.”

Crowley nodded and crawled to the edge of the bed. He slid off and stood, cocking a hip as he threw a dazzling smile at his angel on the bed.

“You always did like a show.”

He turned his back to the bed and bent over. He slowly rolled back up to standing, fingers teasing the lacy fabric down over the gentle swell of his ass. He heard a soft gasp and he grinned. Once the panties reached his knees he let them drop to the floor. He stepped out of them and turned back to face his angel, whose jaw was slack, eyes wide with wonder and want.

“ _Oh_.”

“Is it okay?” Crowley blushed, suddenly self conscious, wondering what the angel had been expecting. What he wanted.

And then Aziraphale’s arms were around him, pulling him down onto the bed, his lips insistent against Crowley’s.

“It’s perfect. You are perfect. Always.” He murmured between kisses, hands secure around Crowley's waist, warm and grounding and breathtaking.

Crowley shivered and moaned.

Fingers traced down the thin planes of Crowley’s chest and stomach, lingered over his prominent hipbone, before slowly teasing their way through the patch of red hair, making him gasp.

“A-angel!” Crowley cried as his hips stuttered, searching for more.

“You’re intoxicating.”

Those clever fingers moved slowly, exploring, finding the ways to send stars into Crowley’s vision.

“Angel, _angel_ , wait!” He panted, head dropping onto Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“Too much?”

“No. Definitely not.” Crowley chuckled. “Just don’t want to forget about you.” 

He reached down and once again hooked his long fingers in the waistband of Aziraphale’s shorts. This time the angel obliged and shifted his hips so Crowley could remove the offending cloth.

And then they were both naked. Naked and happy and together.

“Shit, angel. You’re - _Fuck_ \- divine.” Crowley stared, unblinking, then threw himself into Aziraphale’s lap, needing contact much more than the visual, no matter how glorious it was.

Aziraphale pulled him in and they kissed. They kissed and their hands explored and they moaned and they whispered and they giggled and they loved. 

It was unspoken, but they didn’t need words. Not now.

Now they had each other. Now they felt safe and secure and desperate and giddy.

Then, a sudden shift as they moved together, slipping into place. Heads were thrown back and words dissolved into nonsense sounds and guttural groans of pleasure. They found a rhythm and built on it in accelerandos and accents. A long, sustained crescendo leading to a fortissimo. A duet thousands of years in the making, finally reaching its climax.

They collapsed against each other with messy kisses and ragged breaths.

“I- oh angel, I….” Crowley tried to say it. Tried to set the words free, those words that had been burning a hole in his heart since that first rainfall. They were stuck in his throat, but the angel could feel it, couldn’t he?

“I know, my dear. I know.” Aziraphale had one arm wrapped around his waist. The other joined Crowley’s, their fingers entwining. “I feel the same.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Crowley tried to wriggle out of Aziraphale’s grip, to see him better, but the angel wouldn’t let him move. He found it much nicer to stay where he was, anyway.

“Crowley, my dear, I understand perfectly.” He pressed kisses along Crowley’s hairline. “I can sense it, you know. It did take some time for me to believe that it really was you and it really was for me - there is a near overwhelming amount - but I accept it and I return it wholeheartedly.”

“You knew?”

“Didn’t you?”

“I… I wasn’t sure. You’re an angel, have to love everything. Hard to tell what kind of… feelings you had.” Crowley’s fingers tangled in the silvery hair that dusted the angel’s chest.

“Oh, darling. I wish you could sense it the way I can,” he sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

A finger hooked under Crowley’s jaw and a soft kiss was given.

“I will prove it to you over,” a kiss, “and over”, kiss, “and over. As many times as you need.”

“What about head office?” Crowley whispered, eyes squeezed shut.

Silence. A sigh.

“That is something to worry about, isn’t it?”

Crowley opened his eyes and was surprised to find Aziraphale looking thoughtful rather than upset.

“We could…” he began, then breathed out. 

“We could what?”

“We should go back to the party and finish our work.”

Crowley’s heart dropped. It was over. Everything he’d longed for over thousands of years was given to him and taken away in a matter of minutes.

“But I don’t see how what we do after the work is done is any business of our head offices.”

“What?” Crowley’s brain was a full minute behind in its processing.

“Well, we’re not on the clock all the time, are we? We’re allowed a little down time. Right?” Aziraphale was unsure again, watching Crowley carefully.

“Yes. _Yes_!” Crowley scrambled up, balancing on a hip and one hand. “Like I said, they don’t care how it gets done, just as long as it gets done. So long as they don’t need to come poking around, they won’t. And we can…” He faltered, unsure what to call whatever they were doing now.

“And we can continue seeing each other, spending time together,” Aziraphale finished for him, choosing his words carefully. It gave Crowley the security he needed, knowing that Aziraphale wanted this, wanted him, but nothing so concrete as to put expectations on it. 

Just an angel and a demon passing the time together, sharing in all the best of humanity’s creations and creativity.

Just two friends, very much in love, but too wise to speak the word aloud.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at [EveningStarcatcher](https://eveningstarcatcher.tumblr.com/) if you want to stop by to say hello!


End file.
